Gather Round, Guys and Gals
Who: Abbey Where: Her apartment When: Evening What: Blog entry
Hello, Scarlet Oak! It’s Abbey Rockford coming to you live from a charming apartment community called, descriptively enough, The Court, where I’ve recently signed a lease and possibly my life away. How am I spending this rainy Thursday evening? Stealing wireless from an unsuspecting neighbor and trolling the internet for furniture. That way, I can stop squatting on a fucking beanbag chair from the 1970s. But don’t worry, it ain’t all shit. I got stale Cheetos by my side, an ice pack on my crotch, and soft-core porn on dvd.
First things first. Never agree to buy a couch you haven’t sat on. The one I’m ignoring right now is the ultimate worst. As you might guess, I bought it off Craigslist. The dude who sold it to me for 75 bucks dropped it off yesterday. Turns out, it’s a pull-out with all the comfort of a stretch on the rack, like I tracked down the god of torture and asked for a demo. I woke up this morning with a half-dozen kinks in my back. It almost wrecked my will to live.
Around lunchtime I went outside to see who was in the neighboring shoebox, but I ended up meeting Marco instead... Free-runner, b-boy, employee of pizza delivery #548 of infinity. I sprawled on the hood of his car and let him sell me an unclaimed medium veggie. One thing led to another, yadda yadda, and he convinced me I ought to meet up with him later and try this thing called free running, which as it turns out is actually running up walls and jumping off fire escapes and shit. Think I blew that kid's mind. It's hard for him to grasp a woman being fairly fucking fearless. It's hard for him to grasp a woman, period, what with a chronic case of smelling like tomato sauce. I mean, there can't be an actual, touchable va-jay in the picture, am I right, girls?
Wait, back to the point. Yes, I have one.
So there's a building down the street with a wicked hand railing. Despite a verbal warning from someplace over my left shoulder, I jumped and hit it full speed. Slick as glass, thank you rain. Left leg this way, right leg that way. BAM! I'm riding rodeo all the way down. Fan-fucking-tastic. Now you get the ice pack reference.
So… nightfall’s coming. The whole point of moving out here was to hunt vampires. I should probably check out that Heme place, but between the hand railing and the couch, I’m feeling pretty worked over. If not tonight, soon.
Vampire bar… you gotta wonder what that’s like. I mean, can a regular gal get in or am I gonna have to hang out like a creeper around back? I shouldn’t get too worked up. The place is probably an armpit full of gothic neck-biters reliving their glory days. Still, I can’t help getting a little goosebumpy over it. Maybe this vampire hunter’s about to hit the big time.
I’m getting eye strain, so I’m gonna end it here. Hopefully I’ll be in a better state of mind next time I log on. Keep it real, kids.